The 50th Death
by Isabelle Shwarp
Summary: Kendra Sorenson from the District 11 is barely 13 when her name is called in the reaping at the 50th Hunger Games. Right before her departure, though, her grandfather tells her that she is Fairykind and that she must use the powers this brings to win the Hunger Games. But can this gift really make her win against the skilled people like Haymitch and his companion from District 12?
1. Chapter 1

The 50th Death: Kendra

Chapter 1

The games are different for me. They aren't supposed to be, but they are. No one else can know this, especially not the Capitol. Especially not the other tributes. And especially not the Game makers because knowing means death, and that is one thing that I cannot afford.

The outrageously dressed announcer looked at my scrawny body as I climbed onto the stage.

"We have our first tribute from District 11! Congratulations Kendra!" She cooed. The words echoed in my mind over and over again. This was a Quarter Quell. That meant that it would be even worse. That meant that there would be more of us. A lot more of us.

A few minutes later a boy tribute, a girl tribute, and I walked steadily down the hallway leading to the lavish rooms where we would await the final goodbye to our families and then be swiftly taken off to the dreaded Capitol. I sat there, stroking the pillow's soft surface until my brother, Seth, burst through the doors, running towards me. I received one of his rare hugs, and he started crying.

"You can't handle this. You can't! I should've gone. I'm so sorry! You're going to be fine, though. Right? Right!" Seth screamed at me, changing his opinion almost immediately, not wanting to offend me.

"Seth! I'll be fine…" I said, trying to calm myself more than him, but it didn't really work very well. He looked up at me with big eyes, opened his mouth to say something, but the doors clanged open again and our Grandpa stood in the opening, an eerie look painted on his face.

"Seth," He said. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I have something quite vital to tell your sister. If you want her to live, you need to leave."

Seth looked on the brink of tears again, but he slowly left, walking as if he were a zombie, trying to fight his expressions from overtaking. As soon as he was out the door I realized that I hadn't said "Goodbye," or, "I love you." Now I would never have the chance, simply because I had been too shocked.

"Grandpa, why are you here?" I asked. It sounded rude as soon as I said it, but I never saw him and for him to take away what were probably my last minutes with my brother was cruel. Grandpa worked with making the Games so he was usually busy this time of the year, too. Yes, he was a Game maker. His son, upon visiting District 11, saw a pretty girl and left to join us. I couldn't blame him. From what he'd told us of Grandpa, he was not a nice man. Seth and I are orphans, however. Our father may have had the guts to come join our fields, but he still couldn't handle it and died around my 7th birthday. Our mother had also died a year earlier than him of an illness that had not been properly treated.

"I realize that you must be mad, Kendra, but if you want to survive this you must understand. You have an asset that you can and must use in the Games if you want to survive. You are Fairykind."

"What?" I said, knowing that he would not be joking with me in this kind of situation, but also not knowing how else to perceive his statement. Fairies don't exist. Do they?

"You are Fairykind and in the tournament you will have to use these powers to survive. Do you understand? There will be creatures there, mythical creatures. The others will think that they're just mutations, but they aren't and you must use this knowledge. You must." He shook his head. "If only I had more time. There's so much more I could have told you. So much more I needed to. I have to go soon, but I can tell you that you need to find the faeries once you get there and ask them. Ask them about what I've told you today. They will attack you at first, but you must simply say my name: Sorenson. The same as yours. They will understand you. That's all I can tell you. If they ask any questions just tell them that you're the granddaughter of Stan Sorenson. Now, I have to go, but may the odds be ever in your favor, Kendra.

"But how can-" And then he was gone. Gone from my view forever because apparently my only chance was to communicate with faeries. The guards escorted me out right behind Grandpa, who gave them a curt nod, and left. So much for a helpful family. Of course then again his son, my father, had abandoned him in the Capitol simply because he had spotted a girl, my mother, and came to live with us. He doesn't talk to us often because of that, but my father must have really hated his dad if he would have left that easily. I think I'm realizing why he hated him so much. He's psychotic, and mean. If he wants a show out of me, to make them think I'm crazy just for the Capitol. It's not below them…or him. It doesn't matter now, though, because I'm just going to go and die in the arena, hoping that some faerie will come and save me because, speaking truthfully, it's the only chance I have.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Oh goodness. We really have a prize here!" The beauty ladies who were to prep us for the parade cooed. "You might have a chance at winning with that pretty little face of yours!" They stroked my long blonde hair, and I tried to smile politely. "Let's curl it!" One screeched, their high pitched voice echoing in my ear. I kept my hand from flying up to cover my ears as she continued to talk my ear off with their high pitched voices. After a while I simply stopped listening to them, but I did continue to smile as perkily as I could muster. At the end of the day, my hair was stricken in one position, not moving in it's stiff curls, and my very pale skin had been given a spray on tan to make it darker. People from District 11 usually had darker skin and my light skin did not show a true District 11 citizen, so it only seemed right to represent them properly. The carriages were significantly larger because they all had to fit an extra person, but they still were quite amazing. We were to stand side by side and act as if everything was good and that in a few weeks we would all still be alive and well, not a care in the world. It should've been hard, but I found the thought quite relaxing. I was all too used to pretending that everything was okay. I attempted to talk to the other tributes from District 11 as we stood there in our bright sun outfits, representing the farming district. They ignored me so I turned to the District 12 carriage beside us. The three tributes were covered in an ugly black soot, representing mining, once again. Not only was it not very attractive, but they also didn't look too comfortable. I walked up to a boy with long, black curls who was grimacing, in what I'm guessing was an attempt at a smile in order to get sponsors. He was attractive enough, but he did have quite a serious face that might work against him.

"Hello!" I said, my voice a little more high pitched and cheery sounding then I had intended.

His voice was ragged, almost rough, but definitely austere, as one would expect from a District 12 citizen. "What do you want? Tributes aren't supposed to socialize…"

"Well I know, but it's kind of boring here, don't you think?"

"Boring? Boring! You think it's boring? Oh yeah, sure. It's real boring sitting here, waiting to be sent to our death. Come on! You know that we're all going to die! Get real! You and I don't have a chance. We aren't strong compared to most of the other tributes and we're the low districts. We have no advantage. Your only chance is getting sponsors, but not me! Have fun getting killed! May the odds be ever in your favor and all that crap! See you in the Arena…" He sneered, angrily. His outburst not only surprised me, but it also angered me. Not because I thought it was true for me, but because I knew it was true for him, too…

"Perhaps." I said, tightlipped. "But maybe you would have a chance at sponsors, too if you just smiled once in a while. The Capitol doesn't like pained people because they're a bunch of horrible people who think that pain can't touch them." I leaned in closer to his face, fueled more by my angry rant. "And the really sad part is that it's true because they've given all of it to us." I tried to think about him from the video we watched of all the tributes and I remembered him kissing a girl in the audience goodbye before he went on stage. She was crying, therefore covering her face, but they looked to be about the same age. "If you want to come back to your girlfriend then you should try it. Maybe thinking of her will make you smile…that is unless you'd rather think about almost every person you're seeing here tonight dieing simply for the entertainment of the Capitol. Your choice." And with that I walked back to my carriage. One of the girls that had been standing by him at the District 12 carriage came over to me.

"Hi, my name's Maysilee, Maysilee Donner from District 12," The girl said, giving me a firm shake.

"Hi," I started uncertainly. "I'm Kendra Sorenson from District 11."

"Listen, I just wanted to tell you to back down off of Haymitch. He's smart, his girlfriend was a real catch for him, and he just hasn't quite recovered from the shock that he was just torn away from it all."

"None of us have. That doesn't mean that he has to be so rude."

"Oh, the rudeness? That's always been there, at least partially. He has been…different since the Reaping. I'm worried about him…" She trailed off, staring at him. He was still frowning, maybe even a bit more, but his lips were starting to move in an odd way, as if he was thinking about changing his facial expression. Maysilee smiled slightly. They seemed close.

"How long have you two known each other?" I asked.

"Oh, well, in District 12 everyone knows each other, but Haymitch and I aren't really that close. Thank god for that! Can you imagine? If you were to be reaped with a loved one…it'd be horrible. People either get torn apart farther in the Games, or they grow stronger together until they have to kill each other. It would be one sad fate to have to go through with a loved one, don't you think?" She asked, looking off in the distance again.

"It's a sad existence for anyone…"

"That it is." On that sad note, we parted and climbed into our carriages. The person shouting at us was none other than the horrid one who had reaped my name.

"Please stay in your carriages at all times until we reach the end of the walkway. Then all you need to do is get out and follow us to where you'll be staying! Try to have fun, though! Sell your personalities! Oh…and don't forget to smile! These are vital first impressions." She squealed.

Somehow I think she didn't realize just how vital they really were, though.

My grandpa better have been right about me or else everything that the curly haired boy had said was true…and I didn't want to be the Capitol's petty little 50th death.


End file.
